Bad for You by Weston Parker
11
TRISTIN
When my office door swung open without a knock or a warning, I knew without having to look who had come by. My suspicion was confirmed when I glanced over to find my mother striding in like she owned the place. Which I suppose she does, but we’re still going to have to lay down some ground rules.
“Mother,” I said politely, folding my arms on the desk as I watched her striding over to the windows. “I don’t recall us having discussed you coming in to see me today.”
“That’s because we didn’t.” She turned to face me, as perfectly put together as always. “Finish whatever it is you’re busy with. You’re coming with me.”
“Where are we going?” I asked without moving an inch. “I’m afraid this isn’t a good time.”
She arched a brow after sending a pointed look toward the black screen of my computer. “You don’t seem terribly busy to me. If you haven’t even switched that machine on today, it must mean that you’ve got everything so well in hand that you can spend the afternoon with me.”
“I have switched it on. It’s just gone to sleep because I’m thinking about something.” I rolled my chair back. “Where exactly is it we’re going? You seem to be in a rush.”
“We’re going out, and of course I’m in a rush.” She rolled her eyes and glanced out the window again. “If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late, and that’s simply not an option.”
Assuming that it had something to do with my father since I’d rarely seen her in an actual hurry, I got up and grabbed my phone and keys. “Is it Dad? Does he have a doctor’s appointment we need to go to or something?”
“Your father is fine, darling,” she said, giving me a quick but pleased smile when she saw I was ready to go.
“Are you being intentionally light on the details about where we’re going?” I asked, motioning for her to precede me when we reached the door. “It’s not like you to be vague.”
“Yes, well, I have a surprise for you, and I don’t want to ruin it.” If anyone had asked me, I’d have said that I was suspicious because of the cheerful tone of her voice now that we were headed toward the elevators.
Since there was no one around to ask me, I remained silent. I’d find out where we were going soon enough.
My mother led me down to the executive level of the parking lot, where her longtime driver was waiting with the car she favored these days. Unlike her previous rides, this one wasn’t reminiscent of the type of car a mafia boss or politician might be driven around in. It was a sleek silver Land Rover with tinted windows and all the bells and whistles inside.
So maybe it is reminiscent of what a politician or a mafia boss would be driven in, but it’s better than the pretentious town cars she used to like.
We chatted about how it was going with me at the company once we got in. Everything seemed fine until we pulled up to a very exclusive restaurant, and she turned to me with a bright smile on her face.
“We’re having lunch,” she said. “A very important lunch, at that. Come along. We can’t be late.”
I followed her out of the car, all my senses tingling with the feeling that I was about to walk into a trap. As soon as mother walked up to a table with a faintly familiar-looking woman sitting at it, I knew I was right.
“Tristin, honey.” My mother smiled again as the woman stood up and kissed the air beside her cheek. “You remember Faye Marston, don’t you?”
“Faye Marston?” I said incredulously as I took a second look at the woman standing beside Mom.
She was tall, slender, and beautiful. Pale red hair fell in waves to her shoulders, pinned back on one side with a jewel-encrusted barrette. She was dressed stylishly in a navy sheath dress—which I only knew the name of because of my mother—and high heels with red bottoms.
It was the gray eyes that convinced me that this sophisticated woman standing in front of me was, in fact, the same person as the little Faye Marston I remembered. The last time I’d seen her had to have been at least twenty years ago or so. She’d been the annoying eight-year-old daughter of a transportation magnate my parents often did business with.
My mother’s eyes on me made my skin prickle. She was watching me very closely, her smile growing more forced and impatient by the second.
“Of course I remember Faye.” I held my hand out to take hers, giving it a light shake. “It’s good to see you again.”
Her hand lingered in mine after we’d shaken, and she flashed me a demure smile on her glossy pink lips. “It’s really good to see you too, Tristin. It’s been a long time.”
“That it has,” I agreed, withdrawing my hand from her tightening grip and motioning toward the table. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Selena met my gaze before giving Faye’s chair a pointed look. Knowing what she meant by it, I moved past the woman to put both my hands on the back of the chair while I waited for Faye to take her seat.
Once she was settled, I pushed it in for her and then did the same for my mother before going to take a seat on the opposite side of the table from Faye.
The girl who used to follow me around our house whenever they were over stared at me until my mother cleared her throat primly. She glanced at Selena and smiled brightly before turning her attention back on me. “So, Tristin, I hear you’re taking over for your father. You must be so excited.”
“Excited?” I arched a brow, my hand pausing mid-air halfway to my already filled water glass. “Sure. I suppose you could say that. It’s definitely been an interesting challenge. What about you? What are you doing with yourself these days?”
“Faye represents her family on the boards of several local charities,” my mother said with a note of approval in her voice. “She’s been involved in many of the same fundraisers I have.”
“Now that you’re back, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other at the events,” Faye said. “Perhaps we can even go to a few together. That will be fun, won’t it?”
Jesus. So that’s why my mother insisted I have lunch with her. Apparently, she had found a girl she approved of, and now she was going to make a relationship between us happen through sheer will, just like she tried to with me not enlisting and working at the company instead.
She was throwing Faye Marston at me, and I wasn’t amused by it. I could see why she’d think Faye was a good match for me, but it wasn’t going to happen. She might be a grown woman now, and she was definitely attractive, but not like Brittany.
I didn’t give a damn who her daddy was or what both of the companies stood to gain by a marriage between us. Since I didn’t want to lead her on, I wanted to make it clear from the get-go that I wasn’t interested in whatever scheme she and Selena had been cooking up.
“I’m sure you’d rather attend the events with any one of the younger, more eligible bachelors around. You wouldn’t want them thinking you’re with the old guy.” I pointed at my chest with my thumb. “If you ever need a friend to go with, let me know. I’ll be happy to introduce you around, and I won’t take offense if you meet someone more interesting while we’re there.”
My mother scoffed. “Please, darling. You’re only a few years older than Faye. No one would think of you as the old guy.”
Faye nodded along with my mother’s statement, but a faint pink flush had appeared on her cheeks. “You wouldn’t need to worry about introducing me around. I know everyone in our circles. There’s no one more interesting than you.”
My mother gave her a pleased smile, but it melted away when she sent me a momentary but cutting glare. “Faye is very well positioned to reintroduce you to everyone around here. She went to North Hills Prep, like you should have, and as you know, the alums stick close together.”
“North Hills Prep is a wonderful school,” I said to Faye before looking back at my mom. “You know how grandfather felt about it, though. Besides, that’s all ancient history. What’s good to eat here?”
The restaurant was cold and impersonal, all glass and brushed metal. It was fine dining at its best, with upscale furnishings, art on the walls, linen napkins, and soft instrumental music. Waiters bustling around us carried plates of food that resembled works of art, and there was a sommelier at hand to recommend wine pairings with each course.
Faye let out a soft giggle as she lifted her hand in an elegant, small wave. “Everything is good here. I know you’ve been away, but surely you’ve heard of Chef Ruben? People wait months for a reservation here.”
“Unless you’re one of the select few”—Selena exchanged a smile with Faye—“like us, who have access to the VIP reservation system.”
Well, at least that explained the random cluster of reporters with cameras hanging around on the other side of the large windows. They obviously waited there in the hopes of spotting any of the local socialites and quasi-celebs.
“It’s the new place in town to be seen, huh?” I asked, a bitter taste spreading in my mouth.
Faye, on the other hand, looked delighted to be here as she nodded. “It’s not that new, but Chef Ruben keeps finding ways to stay relevant. None of his competitors have come close, but I’m sure you know that.”
“I didn’t, actually.” She seemed to think this chef was something of a rock star. “I doubt Chef Ruben delivers to any of the places where I’ve been recently.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She hid a giggle behind a well-manicured hand before giving another wave. “Chef Ruben doesn’t deliver.”
“That explains why I haven’t heard of him, then,” I said dryly.
Selena’s lips pressed into a line. “Well, now you’ve heard of him. Faye has very kindly offered to show you around town and to get you up-to-date with everything that’s changed since you’ve been gone. It’s very important to frequent the right places.”
Only if you’re interested in being part of the society scene, which I’m not. “Thank you for offering, Faye. I don’t think I’ll have much time for lunching and socializing anytime soon, though. Work has been keeping me pretty busy, and I’m sure it’s not going to get any less time-consuming as I learn what I need to do.”
Lunch only got more awkward from there, leaving me cranky for the rest of the day about what my mother was trying to pull. Faye seemed like a nice enough girl, and she was definitely eager, but I had no interest in her.
Of course, the woman I was interested in didn’t feel the same way, but I still couldn’t get her out of my head. While Selena and Faye kept trying to find different angles for every avenue I shut down, I got more and more frustrated until I eventually made my excuses and left.
Archer laughed when I told him my mother had tried to set me up but didn’t ask me much about it once our afternoon meetings started. We worked until well past dinnertime before calling it quits.
Brittany was on my mind again by the time I’d showered and climbed in bed. So many memories of her had been plaguing me since I’d gotten back, but there was one I’d managed to keep at bay until now.
It was one of the most perfect memories I had of her. One I’d replayed a million times in the years we’d been separated, but it wasn’t one I’d often had time to indulge in.
Since the house was quiet, the lights out, and sleep didn’t seem to be coming for me anyway, I decided to let myself go there tonight. To the memory of the night of our prom, after the dance, when I’d taken her virginity. Afterward, she’d described it as romantic and magical, and I had to agree.
We’d been young and in love. I hadn’t wanted to take her to some hotel like most of the other kids had done.
As luck had had it, my parents had been around before the dance had started, but then they’d flown out to Europe later that evening. I’d brought Brittany back here, to this very room, and it had been an experience so intense it still got me painfully hard whenever I thought about it.
Like right now.
My hand snaked down as I closed my eyes, my breathing already becoming ragged. I’d covered the room in candles before I’d left. After fixing Brittany a drink to have on my balcony, I’d rushed back in here to light them all. I’d even strewn rose petals all over the bed and floor. It had been a bitch to clean up, but it had been totally worth it.
We’d taken it slow. I’d committed the feel of every inch of her skin and the sounds she’d made to memory so well that I recalled it all effortlessly now. As I stroked my aching shaft, running my free hand across the flat disks of my nipples, I groaned when I remembered how it had felt to sink into her tight, wet heat for the first time—the condom I’d barely managed to get on from how badly my hands had been shaking the only thing really between us in that moment.
I’d looked into her eyes, the blue dark with lust and slightly hazy from the two orgasms I’d given her before attempting to make love to her. My weight had been propped up on my elbows and my hands on the side of her neck and cheek when I’d broken through that final barrier between us.
Her eyes had shone in the orange glow of the candlelight, her mouth forming the most perfect o as a furrow appeared between the brows. It had taken a while, but when I’d eventually felt her contracting around me, I hadn’t been able to hold back much longer.
Just like I couldn’t hold back now. With a final thrust of my hips into my closed fist, pleasure rocketed through me, and I came with her name on my lips. The orgasm left me panting in the dark, so damn powerful that I saw spots as I lay there wondering if she ever thought about that night.
It had been romantic, and sweet, and as we’d cuddled in this bed together after, I’d known I would never feel the same way about anyone else. Knowledge, it seemed, that had only grown stronger with time.
